


Coming of Age: Stories of Rosalie Hale

by bookofthels



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28338063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookofthels/pseuds/bookofthels
Summary: A series of shorts from Rosalie's point of view centralized around the dates of history that make her who she has come to be.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Eleanor Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. 1977 Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> A very Merry Christmas to my Secret Santa recipient tumblr user @teamlesbianbella. I hope this gift suits you and gives you all the good feels you were hoping for!  
> xx
> 
> Catch more on my tumblr blog @humans4vampires

If my heart could be pounding, it would be. If my body could lift my feet with any more anxious haste, it would. The cold wind broke against my skin, the snowflakes only lingering in the fibers of my clothes. It was well below freezing; I was sure this blizzard would be record breaking. I hadn’t seen this much snow in New York State since I was a child. As we ran, I tried to remember the Christmases I’d spent with my human family. The faces of my mother, father, and brothers were fading from my memory. The pain I always felt when I thought of them flooded through me. It wasn’t a raging agony anymore; it was rather dull and nagging. My life, after all, was not entirely riddled with sadness. Though my human family would never be replaced in my heart, my new family loved me and I, them. New? Well, in the context of eternity, it was in the realm of ‘new.’

We had stopped once on this journey from British Columbia to New York as we crossed paths with a friend in Saskatchewan. It wasn’t my first introduction to Garrett, but Jasper was freshly engrossed with Garrett’s patriotism. And Garrett was more than eager to swap war stories. This was also Garrett’s first time meeting Alice, so our initial stumbling upended to an extended stall. I was bored within the first hour. Battle had never interested me and though I loved my Alice, the curio displays of her gifts to each old friend we encountered had become monotonous. It was no better than enduring the years of Carlisle and Esme fawning over Edward when we were still a small family. While they all talked animatedly around the fireplace of a vacant cabin, I read the paper I had grabbed as we walked through the town. The date was January 23rd, 1977.

Christmas of ’76 had been mostly uneventful. We had spent the holiday with our ‘cousins,’ Tanya, Kate, Irina, and Carmen and Eleazar. Though, of course, we had to leave sooner than I would have liked because of Tanya’s constant advances toward Edward. I laughed to myself then, at the thought of anyone finding Edward to be a good romantic match. How funny, I thought, that Carlisle had once hoped that I would be that perfect pairing for Edward.

Of course Edward was beautiful; we all were. But he was handsome, still. I was sure he had been in his human life, too. He was also a gentleman, refined, and certainly someone who would have made a quality match for me when I was just a human girl. But Edward was much more than those simple things, too. Edward was witty and kind. He was talented and well-educated out of interest, not because he felt obligated to fill his time. There was also a part of him that understood me, and I didn’t chalk it up to the mind-reading. No, Edward valued mortality and the virtues of humanity in the same manner I did, I was sure.

Carlisle couldn’t have known me well enough in my human life to truly know that Edward and I would have so much in common, but it did seem to pan out perfectly. By all accounts, Edward was exactly my counterpart; of all my family and all those we came across in this new life, Edward and I were still the most alike. But if likeness equaled a perfect match, then Edward and I had broken the mold.

We were still running, through the tall red oaks and ash trees coated in ice and snow. I had let myself fall a bit behind, letting my thoughts wander. But I was back in the present now, and searching for my imperfect match. She was ahead of me, bounding through the snow with a childlike enthusiasm, moving like a tornado through the forest. Her long, chaotic brown curls were thick with ice. Her long, imposing body charged through the blizzard, her muscles dancing beneath her pearlescent skin. She was unaware of me, totally enthralled by the thrill of the wind, the blistering cold, and the sleet of ice. No one enjoyed being what we were more than my Eleanor.

I juxtaposed the day I carried her home to Carlisle in my arms, battered and broken, to watching her leap through the snow as she did now, a titan, a fearless woman, and smiled proudly. God, how I feared that she would resent me for how I had damned her. Until I had found her lying helplessly on the forest floor, I had never truly known Carlisle. How I had hated his selfishness, his cowardice in facing death, until I was the selfish one begging for the life of a stranger.

Eleanor thought I had saved her, but truthfully, she saved me. She saw me as an angel when I was nothing more than a monster. The guilt of my selfishness waned with time as I saw how much joy this new life brought her. Eleanor embraced everything with barefaced ardor. She was rough and intense and unrefined. She was easily distracted and entertained by each passing moment. She was unfocused and happy. Eleanor had a burning fervor to make the most of every amusement. She found no guilty pleasures, for every pleasure was unburdened; she was completely free.

I had never found myself attracted to women, though I was sure there would be no other woman, or man, on earth that could capture me the way she had. I had thought myself to be a romantic, but I had never truly known love, it seemed. Eleanor consumed me, slowly and surprisingly. A few years had passed before I had realized the devotion I felt for her was something more. I was relieved when I discovered she felt the same for me. How, in my damnation, was I allowed a miracle?

She suddenly turned toward me and stopped, blocking my path with her body. We collided swiftly and she wrapped her arms around me as she pulled me down into a thick snowbank. Eleanor’s laugh echoed through the trees and drowned in the howling wind.

“What are you doing?” I said into her hair.

“You’re going so slow,” she said. “We might as well take a break.”

“A break,” I huffed. “We’re almost there.”

I was locked in her iron grip, trapped in the snow pile against her as she chuckled. I moved to see her face and her expression became more serious. Eleanor brought a hand up to my forehead, brushing the hair there back behind my ear with her fingertips.

“What are you thinking about?” She was staring intently into my eyes, the question burning there.

I shrugged, “My love for you.”

She smiled sweetly, closing the distance between our lips as she cupped my face in her strong hands. Oh, her hands. They began to wander my body as we kissed more deeply. My hands were locked in her hair as she turned us over, pinning my back in the snow. The feeling of her body pressed against mine sent me into a frenzy. She was removing my clothes before I could catch myself falling into the fray.

“No,” I whined, pulling my lips from hers.

She kissed more fervently down my neck. I fought her hands to secure my shirt.

“Eleanor, we’re almost there,” I said. _“Please.”_

She groaned, lifting herself off me quickly. She stood in the snow a few feet away as I redressed myself.

“You’re awfully keyed up about this whole farm thing,” Eleanor crossed her arms as she argued. “I don’t see you as a farm girl.”

“I’m not,” I said proudly. “But this is different. You’ll see.”

She was unconvinced, but held a hand out for me to lead the way. I started ahead and she started clapping.

“God, I love to watch you walk away!” she said loudly.

I took off in a sprint and she followed.

I wanted to go home. When I was new and young and our family had to leave Rochester, Carlisle, Esme, Edward and I moved to a little stone house on the outskirts of the small town of Maine, New York. The house had been standing for at least a hundred years at that time, and while we stayed there, Esme spent her time restoring it. By the time we left to go further south for Carlisle, Edward and I to study medicine, the house had become a home. We left a family. For that reason and so many others, the house in Maine was _my_ home. And I’d never shared it with my Eleanor.

I began to slow again as we approached. I wanted to walk at a human pace; enjoy every perfect detail. The house was atop a gentle hill situated in a large clearing. It was surrounded by towering white spruces and red oaks all blanketed with heavy frost. The long house was entirely stone, aside from a few additions from Esme where the Tudor style matched perfectly, as if they had always belonged. The paned windows were thick with ice like everything else, the snow piled high above the few small front steps to the door. Eleanor and I trudged forward, the snow above my waist. As we got closer to the door, I reached for her hand.

“Welcome home,” she said coolly.

I smiled and moved to open the door. Snow ran into the small foyer, dumping onto the stone floor as we quickly hopped in. I kept her hand in mine as I walked her through the rooms, telling the stories that came to mind. When we were back in the front room, she moved to the fireplace to start to build a fire. The others weren’t far behind. They would be joining us soon. When the beech wood was crackling with the roar of the flames, I joined Eleanor at the hearth. The snow and ice began to melt, thawing us both.

“A bath?” Eleanor suggested.

I nodded and hummed, “Mhmm.”

We were both drenched from the blizzard; our clothes had no hope of drying against our frigid skin. Though I couldn’t be uncomfortable, a warm bath sounded nice. Eleanor was gone then and I could hear the sound of the water running far down the long hallway.

My bedroom had the best view; Esme had insisted on it. Eleanor was standing at the far end of the room, bent over the large claw foot tub that sat in front of a set of wide French doors. She had the doors wide open, filling the room with the horizon, the afternoon light, and the faintest sprinkling of snowflakes. They danced through the air like pixies in the wind.

Eleanor turned to me after she had stopped the faucet.

I removed my clothes slowly, revealing myself to her. She did the same for me, removing her clothes as we admired one another. We didn’t speak. My golden hair was dripping, creating pools around my feet. She extended a hand to me and I crossed the room toward her with inhuman speed. I closed the distance between us, stone to stone as we collided. As we kissed, I felt a rush of peace. A gentle hum trilled my body.

We made it to the tub eventually where we sat, legs tangled together, facing each other as we looked out the doors and watched the snowfall. The neighbor that took care of the property kept horses at the stables here. We watched them as they tunneled through the snow that crested their chests, their brown coats casting a stark contrast to the heavy blanket of white.

“I love you,” Eleanor said softly.

I turned to her. “I love you.”

We stayed there until the water had lost its warmth. Eleanor and I dressed and met the others in the living room when they arrived. Once everyone had changed out of their wet clothes, we picked up our regular activities. Eleanor and Jasper left on a hunting trip to the Adirondacks. Edward went to tune the long-forgotten grand piano, then spent the evening composing something new. Esme and Alice made plans to visit the New York City for a shopping trip, chatting by the fireplace. Carlisle and I sat in matching armchairs, discussing my schooling and the new medical techniques Edward and I had been learning. We would be returning to school in a week when the new semester began again. We spoke for hours about medicine. Alice would chime in every now and then to explain what the future of medicine would look like in the next few decades; there were going to be incredible advancements. Edward would pick the images from Alice’s mind and explain the procedures and technology to us. Carlisle and Esme were beaming with pride as Alice and Edward dazzled them with their synchronized talents.

I wasn’t ‘gifted’ the way my siblings were, but I was never one to feel second-best. Though, at times, I wondered if I should. Was vanity clouding my judgment?

I was sure Edward had heard me. He made a polite excuse to leave the house. The others went to join him, leaving me at the fireplace to wait for Eleanor to return. I wasn’t interested in going out in the blizzard again. And I was grateful to Edward for giving me a reprieve – but I heard footfall coming back toward the house.

Carlisle was back quickly, dusting the snow from his hair in the doorway. I sighed and he smiled apologetically. I turned back to the fire.

“You didn’t have to come back to comfort me.”

His voice was soft. “I didn’t,” he agreed. “But I need to apologize.”

He was next to me at the hearth then, a hand on my knee.

I turned to face him. “It’s not fair for him to tell you every fleeting thought that passes through my head.”

“You know he wouldn’t betray your privacy, Rosalie.”

“I’m not jealous,” I said.

“You’re so much more than beautiful, Rose,” Carlisle spoke gently. “I’m so very proud of you, daughter. Of your strength and grace. Of your resilience.”

I nodded.

“Come now,” Carlisle continued. “Don’t allow another fleeting thought.”

We chuckled lightly.

“Can I convince you to join us?” He stood, holding a hand out to me.

I would never refuse him. I took his hand, and we ran through the snow following the trail of our family.


	2. 1938 Debut

“You’re a vision, darling,” Carlisle beamed, a hand extended toward me as I moved to greet him at the base of the stairs. Our hands met and he twirled me gently to admire my dress. I was glad French fashion was on the decline; the hemlines and necklines were quite a bit more conservative than that of the 20’s, and I’d only experienced that decade as a child. I had never had the chance to flatter my figure with such a silhouette. I turned to face the gilded mirror on the wall.

“It’s perfect, Carlisle,” I smiled. “Thank you.”

We both stood in front of our reflections, wide smiles gracing our perfect faces. I swayed softly, urging the delicate, aubergine satin to ripple with the movement. I admired each detail; the way the supple satin melted to my curves, how the translucent chiffon ruffled tenderly across the dramatic swoop of the sweetheart neckline and over my exquisite shoulders. My golden hair was pinned up in intricate swirls, leaving my décolletage exposed. I ran a finger over my collarbones in a swift line. I’d never seen anything more beautiful and elegant. Was it vain to think it so?

“Perhaps,” Edward was suddenly beside us in the mirror’s reflection. “Even if it is true.”

His tone, as always, was glib. But his expression seemed sincere. Carlisle turned to him, an ever-hopeful smile budding on his lips. Edward did not turn to meet his gaze. His eyes remained locked on mine. A handsome crooked smile crossed his expression as he opened a flat, velvet box.

“I thought this might suit you,” Edward shrugged lightly. We were still watching each other in the reflection. I gazed down at the exquisite string of pearls he held in his hands.

I met his amber eyes again, _Your mother’s pearls?_

Edward nodded, hearing my unspoken words. “A gift, if you’ll accept?”

My expression matched my disbelief and Edward laughed. The sound was warm and enticing. His eyes were gentle when he spoke.

“Something this beautiful deserves to be worn,” he said simply. “They were not created to stay shut up in a box.”

Though I would never voice it, Edward was incredibly thoughtful. Somehow, I felt it was beyond his gifts; as if he would have done this had he not been able to read my mind. Despite our often tumultuous relationship, I was grateful for my brother. Though, I’d never voice it.

He laughed again as he read back each of my thoughts. Edward handed the box to Carlisle and removed the pearls, holding them up with a questioning expression. I nodded once and turned my attention back to my own reflection. I refocused my thoughts on myself as he moved to clasp the pearls around my neck. I was distracted when our eyes met, amber to amber, in the mirror again.

“Thank you,” I said softly. I was amazed at the intensity of emotion that was evident in my voice.

Edward nodded, smiling again his beautiful, crooked smile in acknowledgement. A distant crack of thunder rolled miles away, the flash of the lightning passing through the panes of the window at the same moment, pulling our attention to the sound of the storm.

“It’s getting closer,” Carlisle noted. “Do you think it will make landfall?”

Edward shrugged, “Improbable. I’ve heard it’s curving toward the sea.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Carlisle agreed. “A storm hasn’t landed in Massachusetts in nearly the last century.”

“Though, we should consider that it has already made a strange and unexpected new course up the parallel of the Eastern Atlantic Coast,” I added.

Another crash of thunder seemed to affirm my comment. We were each calculating the distance of the storm when Esme made her entrance. Still deep in thought, Carlisle turned to greet her, as if on instinct. Their eyes met and broke Carlisle’s concentration. Esme glided down the stairs, her deep blue dress dancing around her as she moved to Carlisle’s side. I was sure Edward could feel it too; it was as if the atoms in the air were charged with a new electricity, as if some sort of strange magnetism collided between Carlisle and Esme as they reunited. They kissed tenderly. My eyes flitted to Edward and away in an instant.

I tried to stop my incessant thoughts of love, but it was difficult when the pinnacle of devotion was flaunted in front of me. Not that it bothered me. No, rather it teased me, giving me hope that there was still that kind of affection waiting for me. But it scared me, too. What if I never found it? What if I missed it somehow? What if I was destined to find it some millennia from now? If I had just this one hope for happiness in this never-ending, never-changing eternity, how was I to live not knowing if it was just a futile prayer?

I felt a rush of embarrassment as I thought of the fleeting wish that often crossed my mind: If only Carlisle _had_ been right, how satisfying it would have been to have come into this new life to find my truest love. He thought me destined for Edward. Carlisle thought only of our intended happiness; two beautiful souls plucked from their bright futures like stars streaming across the night sky, only to burn too fast, too hot, meeting their untimely deaths. It would have made for a perfect love story… if only he’d been right.

Edward pretended he hadn’t heard my thoughts. I sighed, taking his arm that he had extended out to me.

“Shall we go then?” Edward raised his brows. I cleared my throat, joining Edward in his taunt to our parents. We made a show of averting our eyes.

They separated themselves then, Esme fixing her lipstick before she slid on her gloves. “Yes, thank you, Edward.” She said, sheepishly.

We left the house with inhuman speed as we rushed through the rain to the carriage house. Of course, carriages were long-gone and ours was the home of our –well, _my_ – treasured 1937 Cadillac Fleetwood Series 75. Edward held the door for me as I slid across the leather seat of the back row. Esme joined me before Carlisle and Edward moved to sit in the front seat. As always, I was disappointed that I would not be driving. I hoped desperately that the future decades would give women more social liberties. How was it that it was uncouth for a woman to drive in the company of men? I knew more about cars and mechanics than any man.

Edward looked at me through the reflection in the rear-view. “You can drive us home.”

I smiled widely in acknowledgment.

Edward started the car and the pleasing rumble changed his expression. A smug smile bent my expression.

“I’m impressed,” he said, assessing the improvements I had made to the engine. “Tell me what you did.”

We carried on the conversation as he drove us deeper into the city. The streets were nearly flooded with the deluge of rain, yet Edward expertly drove at top-speed until we had reached The Copley Plaza. It was strange; I felt a pang of anxiousness as we pulled into the line of cars waiting for the valet. I tugged at the finger tips of my gloves, fidgeting with my growing discomfort as we came closer to the grand, red awnings of the hotel.

Esme placed a hand over both of mine and turned to face me. “Sweetheart,” she murmured. “Don’t be nervous. You have exceptional self-control.”

Carlisle turned in his seat, facing me, too. “We’ll be with you every moment,” he assured me. “But if you’re not ready, I understand. Edward can take you home—”

I shook my head quickly to reject him, “Of course not.” I stopped my nervous motions and squared my shoulders. “I’m more than ready.”

I saw my reflection in my father’s eyes. Suddenly, I saw the earnestness that was always there in his amber eyes echoed in my own. The same compassion for mortality was present in me. I was certain I would make it through my first human event without any catastrophes – or casualties. In many ways, this night felt like my debut into society.

I’d not been out for a formal event since my engagement party. My human memories of the experience were fading, which was a welcomed reprieve. It would be nice to replace those thoughts with what was to come. I was eager to get out and interact with people again. Though I’d had many chaperoned trips out of the house for practice, I’d not yet been so openly exposed to so many humans at once. This was the trial my family was eager for me to overcome. I put a determined look on my face to match my internal resolve. Carlisle turned back in his seat as the valet opened our doors.

The rush of air from the outside brought with it the strong scent of fresh, pulsating blood. The young valet extended his hand to me, too focused on the umbrella in his other hand to really see me. I was grateful for the barrier of our gloves between his skin and mine as he helped me from the car. I didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about such things; I was intoxicated by his scent. Humans smelled even more delicious in the rain. There was something about the way their blood blitzed in their bodies to keep them warm. I took a deep breath, soaking in his scent, his heat, as he pulled me closer. He looked down at me then, and his breathing halted. He stumbled back on his feet a bit and struggled to keep the umbrella above both our heads.

In an instant, I imagined pulling him even closer, gliding my hands over his crisp, white collar and guiding my lips toward his neck. He wouldn’t fight, I was sure of it. It was something he was wishing for, in fact. It would be simple and quick. Without even the chance to scream, his blood would be pooling in my mouth, his life in my hands. In the same moment, I pushed the thought away in disgust.

The boy watched me as I pondered his death, though the expression on his face was not frightened. He was… enamored. His heart fluttered frantically as he unconsciously moved closer to me. Ah, what a simple fool he was.

“There are more cars, Elliott!” Someone yelled, pulling the boy’s attention away. “Don’t stand there flirting!”

The boy, Elliott, turned from me to hide his blush. I could taste the heat of it on my tongue. Elliott led me to the safety of the awning, bringing me in clear view of the other men waiting there. I basked in their envious glances at Edward as he moved to take my arm. They watched me with awestruck eyes. Carlisle and Esme took the lead ahead of us into the bright and glittering lobby.

The room was opulent, rich with marble and stately chandeliers and by all accounts, imposing. But all eyes were on me; it was as if the world had stopped as we walked on. Every woman was full of envy, every man overwhelmed by my beauty. I assessed their glances, doubting that I had the power to draw everyone’s attention on my own. Because of course, my family was beautiful, too. But as if by some divine right, I knew their eyes were on _me._ I knew in that instant that my vanity would keep these humans alive. I far favored their adoration over their blood. After all, they couldn’t look at me this way when they were dead.

Edward sighed loudly.

I pouted, my high being clouded by his judgment.

“Stay out of my head,” I said too quickly for human ears.

“I wish I could,” he retorted.

Carlisle sighed then. “Behave,” he scolded.

“There our children are,” Esme chided. “I wondered how long it would last.”

Edward and I chuckled as we continued across the lobby.

“Carlisle,” a man called. “Carlisle, come meet Dr. Williams!”

We followed Carlisle as he approached a small group of older, balding men and their richly dressed wives.

“George, you must meet Carlisle,” the man said. “Dr. Cullen is extraordinary for such a young surgeon.”

“John,” Carlisle smiled, shaking his hand. “I hope you’re not boasting.”

I tuned out then, letting my eyes wander the room. I met a few pairs of glaring eyes, which pleased me, but I was more focused on the weather. Despite the heavy magnitude of the structure around us, I could easily hear the storm raging outside. The rain pelted the windows so loudly that I was surprised that the humans seemed unaware. Thunder droned on and on, the occasional bolt of lightning bursting its brightness across the marble floor. I turned to the grandfather clock I heard strumming across the room and counted the thrums; _one, two, three_ o’clock.

“My wife Esme,” Carlisle’s voice caught my attention again. “And her brother,” he added.

“Edward Masen,” Edward introduced himself. “A pleasure.”

“And is this your lovely bride?” John questioned, still shaking Edward’s hand, his eyes on me.

“Rosalie Cullen, sir,” I said gently, extending my hand, removing the glove. “Edward kindly agreed to be my escort for the evening.”

John took my hand, kissing it lightly as Carlisle continued the charade. “My niece, from New York.”

John reacted to my cold touch, but passed the thought quickly. He nodded politely, his heart stuttering. “A pleasure,” he blushed.

“Edward, make your way into the ballroom,” Carlisle said, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket. “We won’t be far behind.”

Edward nodded, accepting the paper invitation from Carlisle’s hands. He handed it to me as he turned to the group and greeted them. “Gentlemen,” Edward said, pulling me away.

 _Finally,_ I thought.

Edward hummed in agreement. I looked down at the invitation in my hand as Edward walked with me. The paper was thick, expensive. The Great Depression was only a myth to those in this room. The invitation read:

_The pleasure of your company is requested at the_

_3 rd Annual Gala_

_to benefit_

_St. Peter’s Hospital_

_Wednesday, the twenty-first of September_

_Nineteen hundred and thirty-eight_

_at half past three o’clock_

_The Oval Room_

_The Copley Plaza_

_138 St. James Avenue_

_Boston, Massachusetts_

Edward and I made our way through the large ballroom, passing a waiter on our way in. We each took a glass of champagne to stand on the perimeter of the room near the large, arched windows. We stood idly, making effort to take sips from our crystal flutes, sway, brush a stray hair away; we were playing human. Though it was so obvious we were anything but. I found myself raptured by my reflection again in the rain-soaked window beside me. In that same moment, the crushing blow of water on glass turned both my head and Edward’s.

It seemed to catch us both off-guard, the sound of rushing water on pavement. It was clear that we had been wrong about the storm; the hurricane from the south was quickly flooding the city. Our perfect ears heard every swirl of water as it charged toward us; it was less than a mile out. Windows were bursting, cars were shifting like ships out at sea, the sound of metal and glass playing like wind chimes. I could hear the screaming now.

But the humans here were completely unaware.

Danger was rushing toward them as they sipped their champagne and chattered mindlessly, naïve to the outside world. The metaphor was beautiful, and cruel.

Edward and I locked eyes. _What do we do?_

“Carlisle?” Edward said, his harsh tone almost a growl.

He and Esme were frozen in the doorway across the room, caught in the sounds of the chaos outside as Edward and I were. We all struggled to keep ourselves composed. Only a few seconds had passed.

Carlisle turned to Esme, but he spoke to us all. “Can we save them?”

Edward was curt, “How can we without exposing ourselves?”

“We can’t watch them all drown,” Esme whispered, breathlessly.

“If we barricaded the windows –“ Carlisle said.

Edward grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to him, “There’s no way. We can’t stay here.”

“Edward,” Esme’s tone was pleading. “Can’t we do anything?”

We moved toward Carlisle and Esme at a hurried, mortal pace, Edward tugging my arm in haste. When we reached Carlisle and Esme, we all froze.

There was this strange silence; I thought I had lost my hearing for a moment. The roar outside stopped for less than one second and the audio of the world seemed to pause.

And then the great, arched windows of the Oval Room quivered, bowed, and fractured.


End file.
